


Bonds That Bind

by EmpressOfSpace (mistressofheartbreak)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Decepticons win the war, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Memory Alteration, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2020-10-21 16:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20696762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressofheartbreak/pseuds/EmpressOfSpace
Summary: One day is all it takes for millions of war to come to an abrupt end. After the spark bond between Prowl and Jazz is forcefully severed, the Autobots are overpowered. Megatron decides to use these new Autobot soldiers to rebuild Cybertron into a new age of prosperity. However, Soundwave has different ideas for one mech in particular.(Head the warnings on this one.)((Background relationships and characters are not listed in order to not bog down tags but are relatively prominent))





	1. The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

Blasts were whizzing by in every direction as Prowl was hunched over the tactical panel, allowing him to see the position of all the Autobot forces that he had on file. Of course that doesn’t account for those who shouldn’t be on the battlefield.

“Sideswipe! For the love of Primus, get off the battlefield! Were you even cleared by Ratchet to be out of medbay?” Prowl shouted over the roar of engines and blasters. 

Sideswipe, who was a good twenty yards away from the tactician, yelled back with a smile on his face, “Doc doesn’t need to know about that!”

The Lamborghini turned and looked over the barricade he was using as cover and took a few shots at seekers that got too close to the Autobots’ defensive line. Sideswipes’ golden twin hopped over the barricade, landing between the two as he narrowly avoided his helm receiving a brand new hole in the middle of it. 

“Sideswipe! You’re stabilizer hydraulic was severed less than a vorn ago!” Sunstreaker grabbed his twin and yanked him behind cover. Sideswipe rolled his optics and moved to get back up but his twin kept him on his aft.

“Hound, Mirage is compromised behind enemy lines. Take yourself and Cliffjumper to raundevue with Jazz and Mirage.” Prowl ordered over the comm, looking back at his tactical panel where Mirage’s tracker was blinking in distress. Hound gave a confirmation over the comm as the tactician switched channels to contact the CMO.

“Ratchet, we may have a situation with the special ops team. Mirage is compromised and Jazz is with him, be prepared for incoming patients.” Prowl didn’t hear Ratchet’s response as the deafening roar of jet engines interrupted the conversation. The three most dangerous seekers flew past Prowl’s head on their way to the west most part of the battlefield. Prowl’s sparkrate spiked as he quickly switched channels.

“Bluestreak! Starscream and his trine are headed your way! Find cover or get out of there!” Prowl yelled urgently, his spark pulsing faster for his sparkling. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s bickering stalled suddenly when they heard their bondmate’s name coming from the tactician. 

There were a few moments of tense silence as Prowl typed away at his panel and the twins peeked over the barricade, hoping to see a flash of grey and red paint. Looking for any sign of the Datsun to let them know that their mate was safe. The deafening scream of engines grew softer the further they went and the closer they came to Bluestreak’s location. Streaks of blue, red, and purple turned into dots and soon they were out of sight.

Sideswipe’s helm popped over the cover, looking for the Datsun, but panicking when he couldn’t see the mech past all of the smoke and blaster fire. Sunstreaker kept his optics trained on the trine of seekers as the comms’ crackled to life. 

“Sire… I’m in a rough spot right now. I slammed my helm against a rock and it’s making hard to focus on anything.” Bluestreak continued to babble as Prowl looked over to the twins. They were crouched behind cover with their blasters in hand, already raring to go pick up their mate. Prowl quickly gave them a nod and they shot off to the cave Bluestreak was cooped up in, “The twins are on the way to pick you up. Make sure they take you straight to Ratchet, and make sure Sideswipe actually stays there this time.”

“Wait, what?” Bluestreak muttered, worrying Prowl even further as the helm injury seemed to affect his sparkling more than he was letting on, “Sides’ on the field? How’s even standing when his line’s busted?”

“That’s something to ask him when he gets there. He snuck past Ratchet earlier and met m-“

Blinding pain shot through his spark making him look down at his own chest, thinking he’d gotten shot through the chassis. There were no holes but the pain only increased until Prowl was on his hands and knees clawing his servos into the dirt beneath him. Over the chaos of the battle, Prowl could hear the distinct wailing of his sparkling. Prowl shakily got to his stabilizers as he saw Bluestreak collapsed in Sunstreakers arms sobbing and screaming, Sideswipe trying to cover the two with his blaster but the wailing was pulling too much attention from the Decepticons. 

The yellow Lambrogini picked up the smaller Autobot into his arms and began to sprint back towards the Autobot’s defensive line. Sideswipe tried to continue to provide cover fire before a massive purple tank pinned him and twisted his wrists until the blaster was forcefully tossed away. Sideswipe let out a howl of pain as the Decepticon forced his knee into the smaller mech’s chassis. Prowl tried to activate his tactical panel but the pain in his chest was only getting worse. It was almost as if-

“Prowl…” Hound’s deep voice crackled over the comm link, “We retrieved Mirage but…”

A soft sob came over the line but it didn’t come from Hound, “-my fault, if I wasn’t caught-”

Hound gently shushed the distressed blue mech before continuing, “It’s Jazz. He’s…gone. Soundwave incapacitated Mirage and was rummaging around in Jazz’s chasis before I could-”

Prowl felt his stabilizers give out from under him. He registered that Hound was still talking but he could only hear static. His spark was racing too fast. Blackness was creeping into his HUD and blocking out his vision. Warnings popped up urgently on his HUD warning him that a purge of his tanks was imminent. Pink, unprocessed, energon gurgled in his tank before it forced its way up and splattered the ground. Prowl felt the pounding in his processor letting him know he has entered the first stages of a glitch.

The tactician shakily got to his feet and leaned his weight on the barricade to his side. He looked over to his sparkling, but only saw a horde of seekers descending on Bluestreak and Sunstreaker. The seekers easily caught up with the fleeing duo, as Sunstreaker was unable to transform with Bluestreak in his arms and they quickly became overwhelmed. Prowl tried to shout for help but the words refused to leave his throat. The all too familiar signs of his processor overheating took away his sight completely as he collapsed into the energon he just purged. 

.

..

…

[SYSTEM RESTORATION IN PROGRESS]

…

[SYSTEM RESTORATION COMPLETE]

…

[PROCESSOR: OPERATIONAL]

[ENERGON LEVELS: INEFFICIENT]

[SPARK RATE: CRITICAL]

…

..

.

The first thing Prowl felt as his systems were onlining one at a time, was the searing pain that remained in his spark chamber. When Prowl opened his optics he took in the ceiling above him, it was darker than the warm grey metal of the medbay on the Ark. Prowl tried to sit up but found that he did not even carry the strength to move his helm. 

Ratchet’s familiar white and red frame came into view above him, the SIC tried to speak but found he had no voice.

The medic moved just out of view and Prowl’s mobility swiftly returned to him, leaving all of his limbs feeling like static was moving through them. Prowl moved to sit up but Ratchet’s servo was placed gently on his chassis, stopping him in his tracks. The ambulance turning away from him to put the stasis cuffs on the table behind him. The old medic returned to the berth but refused to look Prowl in the optics as he looked at the monitors, the energon transfusion, anywhere but to meet Prowl’s eye.

“Ratchet, what happened?” Prowl asked softly.

But Ratchet still refused to look at him as he avoided the question, “How are you feeling, Prowl?”

The medic’s usually steady hands trembled as he removed the energon line from Prowl’s medical port. Prowl looked at the faceplate of the mech in front of him, the soft metal there was dull but the optics were shiny as if the mech was holding back from coolant overflowing. 

Prowl felt dread sit like a heavy rock in his spark.

“Carrier, what happened?” The tactician said more firmly this time. 

The medic finally looked Prowl in the eye, shocked that the fully grown mech reverted to calling him ‘carrier’. Ratchet grasped his creation’s helm with both servos, cradling Prowl gently.

“We lost, Prowl. After you went into forced stasis, the battle went into chaos.”

Prowl shot up in the berth, almost knocking over his carrier, as he quickly asked, “What do you mean we lost? We lost the battle? Where are we Ratchet?”

Ratchet’s servos slammed into the surgical tray stand next to the berth, sending laser scalpels and wrenches scattered over the floor. “The war, Prowl! We lost the entire war! Millions of years and deaths just for the Decepticons to overpower us within a day!”

Ratchet’s vents shook as he tried to regulate his voice box. He wiped at his optics quickly as he quietly continued, “We’re in the Nemesis' medical bay - one of the private rooms. You’ve been in forced stasis for about a quartex after…” 

Ratchet trailed off again, returning to not looking at Prowl.

“After?” Prowl insisted.

Ratchet grasped Prowl’s servos trying to offer comfort, “After Jazz’s passing.”

Prowl’s jaw dropped and looked at his carrier, trying to find some indication that the other mech was lying. Ratchet only looked remorseful and Prowl could feel his spark pain flair, now knowing it was because his bond with Jazz had been severed. Coolant began to well in his optics and threatened to overflow but Prowl held back. 

Prowl reset his voice box and took a deep vent before asking shakily, “And Bluestreak?”

“I’m not sure. I know him and the twins were among the first to get overwhelmed but I don’t know their whereabouts. After you went offline, chaos fell across the battlefield. Optimus wasn’t able to rein in the chaos in time before Megatron lead his front liners to take advantage of the situation.”

Prowl’s servos reached up and covered his faceplate and he was silent for a long time. Ratchet placed his servos on Prowls shoulder armor, before Prowl slammed his servos onto the berth.

“FRAG! SLAGGING NO GOOD DECEPTICONS AND THEIR PRIMUS DAMN WAR! FRAGGING GO TO THE PITS, ALL OF YOU! I’LL RIP OUT EVERY ONE OF YOUR SPARKS WITH MY OWN SERVOS IF I HAVE-“

Heavy footsteps stomped their way before the door slammed open and a fuming Hook made his way inside. The Decepticon took one look at the instruments strewn across the floor and the mech’s visor flared with fury, “Be quiet you Autobot scum! I gave you a private room because you’re whore of a carrier looked pretty on his knees, but now that you’re awake and making a slagging fool of yourself, you can get the hell out of my med bay! Get your aft down to the brig!”

Prowl’s helm whipped to Ratchet, who was clenching his servos so tightly that they shook. The medic optics were full of rage and disgust but his helm stayed down and he remained silent. All the pain in his spark chamber fueled his fury as he rolled off the berth and lunged for the Decepticon medic, aiming for the mech’s neck cables. Prowl was by no means a front line unit, but being in the military he was going to use what basic hand to hand combat knowledge he had. The tactician refused to sit by and allow this scum to slander his carrier in front of him.

Before his servo could wrap around the cables, a shock went through him, his stabilizers giving out from under him. He collapsed to the floor, his helm slamming into the knocked over surgical tray. His stabilizers twitched uncontrollably under him and refused to hold his weight as he tried multiple times to get to his feet. Hook sneered down his nasal ridge at Prowl before he placed his foot on the side of Prowl’s helm. 

“You Autobots are so weak. This is why you would have lost the war one way or another. It was just a matter of time.”

The shock returned and Prowl’s frame thrashed on the floor before Ratchet leapt into action.

“Stop! That wasn’t part of our agreement!” Ratchet pushed Hook’s chassis, forcing the Decepticon off of the tactician. Prowl’s optics drifted to the red and white mech just in time to see Hook punch his carrier across the face.

“I said I would allow you to stabilize him. I never said anything about keeping him that way.” Hook grunted as he pushed Ratchet into the medbay behind them.

The decepticon medic grabbed the stasis cuffs off of the floor and slapped them, none too gently, back on Prowls wrists, cutting off his ability to move or speak.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, autoscum. Your carrier was so well behaved before you woke. It’s a shame I’m gonna have to punish him until he learns some more manners.”

Hook looked thoughtful for a second before a smug smile stretched across his face plates, “Well, a shame for him mostly. It’ll be pleasurable for me.”

Prowl tried to snarl at the mech above him, but his frame refused to budge. Hook smirked down at the tactician before turning the dial on the stasis cuffs to maximum power, making Prowl’s optics switch off as he entered forced stasis.

..........................................................................................

A blue visor flickered to life as the HUD slowly ran it’s start up. Jazz groaned when the fluorescent light above him blinded him momentarily. He tried to focus on his surroundings but nothing seemed familiar to him. The room was practically bare with only the berth Jazz was laying on and a desk with a stack of datapads on it. The polyhexian kicked off the heated blanket and moved to stand, but once he started to put weight on his stabilizers, they collapsed under him.

Jazz caught himself on the desk beside him, but the sudden force caused the neatly stacked datapads to crash to the floor. Jazz cursed under his breath as some of the more unfortunate ones cracked and shattered against the floor. 

Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall slowly moving towards the room. Jazz panicked as he tried to get his footing back but his stabilizers refused to execute his processor's orders. They only trembled under him uselessly.

Jazz’s optics flitted around underneath his visor as he looked for some form of self defense. The black and white mech settled to pick up a shard glass from one of the broken datapads as it seemed to be the only item that could be used as a weapon.

Jazz armed himself with the glass, squeezing the makeshift dagger in his servos tightly until he felt the warm trickle of energon leak out from between his digits. The heavy footsteps stopped outside the room and with a soft noise, the metal door slid open.

A blue mech stood in the doorway, red visor focused on Jazz. The mech looked strangely familiar to him, but when he tried to place a name to a faceplate, soft buzzing static took over his processor. Jazz’s faceplate crinkled as he tried to push through the pain but the static didn’t budge and refused to give him an answer.

The larger mech strode towards the collapsed bot and kneeled in front of him, “Jazz: Uninjured?”

The flat, melodic tone was so distinct however, the longer Jazz tried to focus on it, the static started to prickle and pain bloomed across his processor. The blue visor flickered in response as Jazz squeezed his optic shut to try to lessen the pain, a hiss coming from his voice box. A servo reached up and tried to soothe the pain away but Jazz thrust the glass into the armor cover the forearm when it got too close.

The other mech flinched and stared at the glass embedded in his arm. Jazz quickly pulled the shard out and moved to pierce the vital energon cable in the exposed neck before the mech’s other servo snapped up and grasped his wrist. Jazz strained to continue his trajectory into the cable, arm trembling as his fatigue allowed him to be overpowered easily. Soft vibrations emitted from the mech’s speakers in an attempt to relax the black and white mech. Blue servos pried open Jazz’s bleeding one and plucked the glass out of his grasp.

“Distress: Unnecessary. Soundwave: Here to care for you.”

The flat tone did not help soothe Jazz’s nerves any, but at least now he had a name to go with the mech in front of him.

Soundwave swiftly pulled a compact medical pack out of his subspace and began treating the bleeding servo. Gently the nanite pads were placed over the wound and gauze was wrapped around the servos to keep it in place until the nanites could seal it closed. After the wound was dressed the blue servos did not move away and began to cradle the palm.

“Jazz: Missed.”

Jazz snatched his servo back and pushed the mech away, “Hey, sorry man, but I think ya got the wrong bot… I got my own mate to get back to.”

Soundwave’s red visor damped, in what Jazz could only guess was sadness, before he reached behind him and shifted through the unbroken datapads behind him. When he found the one he was looking for, he powered it on and shifted through the files. Opening a folder, Soundwave passed the datapad over to Jazz.

The polyhexian warily took the datapad and noticed the file was filled with photos. He started at the top and opened the first image. His jaw slacked open as he saw the two of them in the photo. Jazz had his arms slung around Soundwave as he was sitting in the larger mech’s lap, the cassette player had his mask removed and was softly smiling as his arm was wrapped around the other mech’s waist.

But...that wasn’t right, Jazz could have sworn on Primus’ name that he should have been in the lap of another black and white mech. One with doorwings and-

Jazz hissed sharply and dropped the datapad to the floor, the static returning to his processor, fogging up his functions. Sharp, piercing pain rushed through his helm and his servos shot up to relieve the pain.

However, blue servos were already there, rubbing the area under his sensory horns, rubbing them in a way Jazz always liked. The soft vibrations were back and was making his plating tingle, in an alleviating way.

“Relaxation: Recommended. Injury severity: Unknown.” Soundwave said, his tone softer this time, as if not to aggravate the headache anymore.

“Injury…?” Jazz groaned through the pain, helm bowed as Soundwave continued to rub circles the junction between his horns and his helm.

Soundwave’s mask hissed as retreated into his helm, leaving his exposed lips firmly in a line, “Jazz: Decepticon specialized in espionage. Mission: Deep undercover infiltration into Autobot command. Autobots: Discovered you were a traitor and bonded to myself. They severed our spark bond to try to get me to stumble in battle. Jazz: Contained most of the trama to spare me but caused a processor shut down. Soundwave: Able to retrieve you and stabilize you as Lord Megatron overpower the Autobots. Injury: Left the spark bond to remain broken and unknown amounts of your processor was wiped.”

Jazz tried to take in the information given to him but all the pieces just didn’t seem to add up correctly. The more he tried to process it the worse his helmache seemed to become. The static thickened and any kind of processing seemed impossible.

Soundwave’s servos were removed from his helm as he reached down and picked up the smaller mech. Supporting Jazz’s back with one servo while the other one scooped under his stabilizers in what the humans called a ‘bridal carry’. Jazz unconsciously clung to the blue mech as they made their way over to the berth.

Soundwave gently placed Jazz back onto the berth and picked up the crumpled fabric off of the floor. The cassette player tucked the Porsche in and reactivated the heated blanket in order to provide some comfort to the mech while he slipped into recharge.

The blue mech moved up to Jazz’s helm and gently caressed the side of Jazz’s faceplate.

“Soundwave: Glad you are safe. Tomorrow: Hook will oversee your appointment in the medical bay.”

Soundwave placed a soft kiss to Jazz’s black helm in the middle of his sensor horns. Jazz stared up at the larger mech in awe as Soundwave gave him a small smile. Soundwave stood up straight and his white mask hissed back into place.

“Jazz: Rest well.”

Soundwave moved to leave and he lowered the lights as he stepped out of the door. The keypad next to the door switched to a soft red glow, letting Jazz know that the door was locked.

The saboteur watched the door for another minute in disbelief. Was this really his life? A double agent that was noble enough to almost die to protect his mate? To Jazz, it just seemed so far fetched. All of the pieces that Soundwave gave him seemed to add up, but the feeling in his spark saying that it wasn’t right refused to leave.

Jazz let out a deep vent before shifting to his side. He could think about this more clearly tomorrow when he didn’t have a helmache that wanted to split his processor in half.

He off lined his optics and began to shut down his HUD in order to slip back into recharge.


	2. (Everything I Do) I Do It For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who's not dead. One would think quarantine would allow me to write more but this years been kicking my ass. So here's a longer chapter to kinda make up for it

Awakening in new, strange places seemed to be the new norm for Prowl as he onlined within the confines of a brig. Darkness encompassed him and the only source of lights came from his now onlined optics and the laser field that acted as a gate to the cell.

The Datsun attempted to get to his stabilizers, but found he wasn’t able to move. A quick look down saw the stasis cuffs from before were still firmly placed around his wrists. The charge must not have been on full as Prowl was online this time, but he felt like a human rag doll, unable to do anything but move his optics.

Prowl’s useless body was propped up against the farthest wall from the cell door but at least he wasn’t alone. Inferno was directly beside him while on the bench to the left of Prowl, was Wheeljack, Cliffjumper, and Bumblebee. The engineer was slumped over while Cliffjumper had his helm on Bumblebee’s shoulder plate. Across from that trio, Mirage was sprawled out alone across the bench but surprisingly, he also had his optics online.

Olympic blue optics met his and although the racer car’s faceplate showed no emotion, coolant tears were rolling down the sides of his faceplate in thick blobs.

Never one to be emotionally sensitive, Prowl didn’t know what to say. It didn’t really matter however, because even if he wanted to, Prowl wasn’t physically able to do anything but stare at the white and blue mech.

The laser field in front of the cell dissipated to reveal Ramjet and Dirge. The two jets stepped into the cell for only a moment before they moved in a straight line towards Wheeljack and Cliffjumper. 

Ramjet grabbed Wheeljack by the stasis cuffs and began to drag the vehicle behind him out of the cell. Dirge, on the other hand, handled Cliffjumper a little more carefully. The blue Decepticon picked up the minibot bridal style and turned on his heel to leave the cell as well. As soon as Dirge walked past the door frame, the laser field returned.

The pair of footsteps got quieter and quieter as the pair went down the hallway and silence fell over the brig once more. 

It seemed like stellar cycles as nothing happened for the longest time. Prowl would hear footsteps every so often but they never came far down enough down the hallway for Prowl to be able to see who it was.

Prowl almost memorized every scratch in the metal wall in front of him when suddenly, two large Decepticons that Prowl hadn’t ever seen before came into view. The laser field dissipated once again and allowed entrance to the pair. The overtly large dark green tank moved over to Mirage and easily tossed the car over his shoulder treds before moving over to Bumblebee. With his free hand, he scooped up the yellow and black minibot before moving back out into the prison hallway.

The other, slightly smaller black tank made his way into the cell after him and moved closer to Prowl. Squatting in front of the police car, the tank lifted the Autobot to his chestplate like one would handle a sparkling.

‘Can it get any more degrading than this?’ Prowl internally scoffed, before the tank stood and followed his fellow Decepticon out of the cell and into the hallway.

The Decepticon duo made their way down the hall, passing by various other prison cells that were filled with various levels with other Autobots. Prowl was unable to move his head but, over the tank’s shoulder he was able to see Sideswipe in a room by himself, Beachcomber and Hound leaning up against each other, and then Bluestreak lying horizontally on a bench.

Prowl’s spark jumped up into his neck cables at the sight of the young mech. The grey and red armor was covered in dust, dents, and a dried stream of Energon covered his helm. Prowl tried to overcome the stasis cuff just enough to call out to his creation but anything more than moving his optics was impossible. The guards just kept walking down the hallway until Bluestreak was out of sight. 

They entered a large elevator that, even with the five cybertronians inside, could have fit triple that. Given how much larger the average Decepticons were, it was not all that surprising that their ships were made to accommodate them.

The elevator rose a few floors, but Prowl wasn’t able to number exactly how many as he was facing the back wall. After a few moments of tense silence, the elevator stopped and the two tanks got off.

The tank carrying Bumblebee and Mirage exited first and the one carrying Prowl followed close behind. The pair of Decepticons made their way down another hallway that was better lit than the one that was in the brig.

‘That being said,’ Prowl thought, ‘The Decepticons still keep their ships dark as slag. At least up here I can see two inches in front of my optics.’

They passed by two doors before they made their way into the third. A quick look around saw that Prowl was back into the medbay.

“Hull, put that one on the berth to the far right. Shell, put the other two on the ones next to him and make sure their arms are above their head to get them out of the way.” Hook’s voice called out from one of the private examination rooms out of Prowl’s field of vision.

The tank holding Prowl dropped him unceremoniously onto an examination berth while Bumblebee and Mirage were placed onto theirs with a little more caution. The black Decepticon that was holding Prowl moved his bound hands above his head and magnetized the cuffs to the bar at the head of the berth before he moved out of sight.

Prowls optics moved around the room in an attempt to catch sight of his carrier, but with his body paralyzed, he couldn’t see anything but the cold grey colored ceiling.

The obnoxious color scheme of Hook broke into his line of sight as well as a sleek high end car that Prowl had never seen before. The red mech typed away at a data pad in his hand as Hook moved a silver tray closer to the pair.

“Open a new file under Autobot: Prowl.” Hook commanded the other before moving over to Prowl’s central medical port. Unhooking the protective plate, he plugged into Prowl and thankfully didn’t connect the processor port that would have allowed him access to Prowls thoughts.

If he had access to his own functions, Prowl would have gasped in shock as his own chassis began to part. His bumper split down the middle and moved to the side allowing the Decepticon medics full view over the glass casing of his spark chamber.

Prowl could only stare in horror as Hook picked up a long thin pin from the stand beside him and slowly began to pry off the glass. Usually the bare spark was for the optics of a spark mate and no one else. Not even medics dared to invade that privacy unless absolutely necessary. Prowl wanted to scream when the glass was ungracious removed and his amber spark was exposed to the room. The soft glow reflected off of both Hook and the unnamed mech but they didn’t seem to be bothered by the invasion of privacy they inflicted. 

“Knockout come look at this.” Hook said, waving the other mech closer with his free hand.

Knockout rolled his eyes at the older mech and grumbled, “I am a certified medic you know. I don’t need any lessons in spark chambers.”

Hooks helm snapped around and nearly growled at the automobile, “You are nothing more than a certified cosmetologist. Need I remind you that you are under direct orders, from Lord Megatron himself, to further your field of expertise? We’re so understaffed for the number of patients that basically doubled from the war's end, and that number might even triple or quadruple by the end of the vorn. Now get over here you pompous scrap pile.”

Knockout snarled and bared his denta at Hook but didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the other side of Prowl’s berth.

The instrument Hook was holding moved around in Prowls spark chamber suddenly and Prowl could feel coolant building in his optics from pain as his spark levels became erratic with the foreign object rummaging around.

“Down at the bottom of the spark chamber there is usually an opening to a cable that runs down into the forging chamber. However, he doesn’t have one. Now why is that, Knockout?”

Knockout rolled his optics and replied in a bored tone, “Because he’s a sire and he doesn’t have a forge?”

“Corrects. Within the first stage of a sparkling's life cycle before emergence, both the carrier and sire can carry the new spark as long as the new spark is returned to the carrier before the beginning of the second trimester. If the sire carried the new spark when it tried to migrate down to the forge, the new spark wouldn’t have anywhere to go and would become extinguished, merging its energy back into the sire’s spark.”

Knockout typed away at the data pad, not to take notes but in an attempt to look busy.

Hook side eyed the other medic but continued his lesson anyways, unbothered by the lack of an interested audience. “When a Cybertrnian is unbounded, the spark would be unmarked and pure. When a pair performs the rite of Condurex Endura, you will find a vial of the partner's energon outside of the glass divider but underneath the base armor. But the couple will not be bound to each other until they merge their sparks. The energy of two sparks is never a 100% match so the two sparks will never completely blend together, so what happens to the remaining energy?”

Not even waiting for a response from Knockout, Hook continued, “The excess energy will create a spark bond, a ring of energy will band around the spark in the color of the others' spark. This energy is also from where sparklings will form. After a pair is already bonded, if the two sparks were to merge again, the excess energy only has two choices, it either strengthens the bond or it forms a new spark.”

Hook tapped Prowl’s spark chamber and continued, “In cases like this though, if a spark bond is broken from one member of the bond dying, the other’s spark will be scarred forever. That dark line that goes horizontally across Prowl’s spark is a permanent scar from the ring of the other’s spark. Most often than not, the other partner does not survive the bond being severed and will enter a state of spark shock where their spark loses its own rhythm and begins to sputter itself out.”

Knockout continued to type into his datapad as Hook rambled on, not as disgruntled before but uninterested nonetheless. Hook put down the instrument back onto the tray and picked back up the protective glass. The Decepticon medic snapped it back over the exposed spark and ran the manual medical override and reclosed Prowl’s chassis.

Hook waved over to Hull, who was waiting by the door, and the huge Decepticon moved over to Prowl’s berth. The black mech unhooked his arms and tossed the tactician over his shoulder once again. As they made their way out of the medical bay Prowl saw the medical duo move onto Bumblebee.

“For this one, since he has an opening at the bottom of his spark chamber, he’s a carrier so make sure to write that down in his file-” Hook got cut off by the doors closing behind the tank.

Prowl thought that after the quick examination, they would have returned to the prison cell but when they entered the elevator, they went up another few levels. They exited the elevator into a longer hallway with multiple mechs and femmes swiftly walking throughout. Hull seemed to be in no hurry though, as he continued to leisurely walk towards the end of the hall.

Prowl could only look around with his eyes, but the hall seemed to go on for eternity until Hull took a sharp turn to the left. Metallic doors gave a soft hiss as they depressurized and made way for the tank, letting them into a room that was blindly bright compared to the rest of the ship.

Inside was one of the combiners, Swindle. The smaller vehicle was directing mechs around, snapping at unnamed Decepticons. When he saw Prowl being carried in, he absentmindedly pointed over to the far wall where other Autobots were propped up.

The tank dumped the Datsun on his aft and his back slammed into the wall behind him.

“Hey! Watch the merchandise!” Swindle’s obnoxious voice yelled at Hull from across the room. The tank rolled his red optics but held his tongue as he stood back up and the room entirely without a response to the combiner.

Swindle clicked his glossa at the tank’s manners but turned to a scrawny plane next to him.

“Check that one for damage and give him a quick freshening up. He’s filthy from being in the brigg.”

The mech silently nodded and picked up a bucket and pot of wax and moved over to Prowl. The mech quickly ran a damp sponge over his chassis, then moving down to his protective armor around his abdomen. Then, embarrassingly, cleaned off his hip plates. A quick pat down from a towel dried off his armor before the mech began to smear wax over his frame in a quick polish.

The wax was nauseatingly full fragranced, and it caused Prowl’s empty tanks to turn. The mech continued to buff the wax as the door opened again and the other mech from the medbay walked in, carrying Bumblebee under one arm.

The tank gently placed the minibot next to Prowl and nodded at Swindle before leaving.

Swindle tossed the datapad he was carrying over his shoulder, and a smaller vehicle stumbled to grab it before the pad shattered on the ground. The Hummer made his way over to the line of Autobots before fiddling with a glowing panel on his forearm.

Prowl felt static flood his systems as they started to reboot. He was finally able to curl and uncurl his fingers as some mobility returned to him. He tried to get to his stabilizers but they weren’t responding, so he guessed that the Decepticon was not nice enough to return all of his systems.

The sound of shuffling next to him drew his optics over to the minibot next to him. Bumblebee’s sky blue optics were open and frantically taking in the new environment. Their optics met and Bumblebee’s mouth opened in an attempt to speak, but nothing came out.

Swindle clapped his servos together, pulling the Autobots’ optics over to him. “Alright femmes and gentlemechs, this is how this is going to go. One by one we’re going to present you to the audience of Decepticons in an auction for ownership over you all. Each Decepticon officer gets the rights to one Autobot, and whoever wins the auction is based on rank. If no one makes an offer for you, then there will be a last call that everyone can make an offer for, even if they already own one Autobot. If no one comes forward at that point, you will be transferred over to the new Autobot Labor Force where you will be mining raw energon for the rest of your life cycle. Any questions?”

The row of Autobots gave each other a nervous side eye before Swindle quickly continued, “No? Great! I’m so glad you all are excited to get started, so let's go!”

At his signal, a fully armed mech stepped out from behind him and moved towards the cuffed Autobots.

“On your feet, mechs. We have a schedule to follow.” The jet commanded, herding the Autobots through a new door in a single file line.

Dread settled in Prowl’s chassis like a rock and he could only think that, as awful as the thought was, at least Jazz would be spared from this life of slavery.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A soft blue light cut through the darkness as Jazz slowly woke. His HUD slowly booted up and Jazz rolled over onto his side.

“Computer, lights up to 30 percent.”

Fluorescent lights slowly began to activate to a low glow that wasn’t blinding, but was enough to properly see properly. Jazz took a deep inhale and exhaled through his vents. Waking in the same strange room as yesterday left him with only the realization that this wasn’t just some strange defrag. The dull pain in his servo drew his optics down, looking at the neatly wrapped wound across his palm.

‘This is real, huh? Then why does it feel so... wrong.’

A clattering noise from a different room caused Jazz to look over to the door. He could hear an argument growing in volume coming from another room, but with the barrier of walls, he was unable to make out any words. Jazz tossed the heated blanket off of him, before swinging his stabilizers off the side of the berth and standing.

The saboteur made his way across the room, and manually opened the door using the glowing pad next to it. The door opened with a soft hiss and Jazz peeked out around the corner. No one was in the hallway but now he could actually hear what was being said.

“Boss are you out of your fuckin’ mind?! What is that  _ trash _ doing here?”

“Rumble: Desist.”

“No! Absolutely not! You put that-”

Jazz made his way towards the commotion, and only just rounded the corner before a minibot ran straight into him. The smaller mech’s helm slammed into his hips and the collision barely made Jazz stumble, but it sent the other on his aft.

“Oh! Sorry about that, my mech…” Jazz said apologetically, before offering a servo to help the purple mech to his stabilizers.

The minibot knocked his servos away and jumped to his feet, red visor brightened in anger, “Hey what’s the big idea! Knocking over mechs like that!”

Jazz was taken aback by fury radiating off of the other’s field. He straightened and lifted his servos in a way to try to pacify the situation, “Hey, hey, hey. It’s all cool, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just an accident.”

A snarl erupted across the other’s faceplate and he opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a monotonous, yet commanding voice.

“Rumble: Desist. Assignment: Help Frenzy on monitor duty.”

Rumble whipped around to the blue tape deck in disbelief, “Are you  _ kidding  _ me? I just did monitor duty yesterday!”

“Rumble: Would prefer cleaning and reorganizing the medical bay?”

The purple mech quickly snapped his mouth shut, his faceplates flushing in embarrassment. Without another glance at the taller mechs, he ground his denta together and stomped his way out the door, cursing through his denta the whole time.

Soundwave watched the cassette as he left, and once the door closed behind him, released a small huff out of his vents. The noise was so soft that Jazz doubted he would have heard it, if not for his advanced hearing.

“Is he our sparkling?” Jazz asked bluntly, even though the smaller cybertronian shared little resemblance to himself.

Soundwave’s voice box sputtered as he whipped his head towards Jazz. “Negative. Rumble: Not a sparkling. He is one of the many cassettes I carry.”

“Ah.” Jazz responded as he walked over to the table next to Soundwave. He hopped up and made himself at home before continuing, “So what’s grinding his gears so much?”

“Cassettes: Not aware of our relationship before your return. Rumble: Still sees you as a threat.”

Jazz shrugged his shoulders, “Understandable. It must be weird, seeing as I was pretending to be the enemy for so long.”

Soundwave stiffly nodded his head and an awkward silence fell over them as Soundwave’s blazing red visor studied Jazz’s faceplate. Awkward silence momentarily fell over the pair for a moment or two before Jazz cleared his voice box and said, “Didn’t you wanna eat before we head over to the doc’s?”

Soundwave snapped out of his daze before he walked past Jazz to the energon dispenser. He prepared two cubes for them before adding some additives to both. The cassette player turned back to the other mech and handed him a cube with a copious amount of iron flakes and just a dash of cobalt.

Jazz felt a cheeky smirk spread across his cheeks as he graciously took the cube, “Aw, you remembered how I like my energon.”

Soundwave didn’t meet optics, as he released his mouth guard. He fiddled with his own energon as he mumbled, “Soundwave: Would never forget.”

Jazz tried to genuinely smile at the sweet gesture, but there was that feeling again in his chest that was telling him that something wasn’t quite right. He studied Soundwave for a moment more before he shook off the feeling.

‘It just must be awkward being with your sparkmate again after so long.’ Jazz thought to himself, before he spoke out loud, “So we're just going to med bay for a check up?”

“Affirmative. Jazz: Has been unconscious for approximately a quartex. Injuries: Unknown. Soundwave: Would like to ensure everything is fine.”

Jazz nodded and began to sip at his cube, watching the other mech through his visor. It honestly just didn’t make any sense to him, ‘He knows how I like my energon and there’s pictures of us together, but why does this feel so off?’

Suddenly, he could picture door wings. The same black and white mech that he thought about yesterday was fiddling with a different dispenser. The door wings were hitched far up on his back as he tossed the screwdriver to the side in frustration. The mech began to turn towards him, “Jazz, pass me-”

The same static from yesterday suddenly shot through his processor. The Porsche hissed in pain and the half full cube slipped from his hand and clattered on the floor. Soundwave rushed over and stood in front of Jazz. Immediately, the blue mech began rubbing the same spot under Jazz’s audio fins in an attempt to relieve the pain.

The pair sat there for a few minutes as the static slowly began to recede and the black and white mech was finally able to process again.

“I’m fine, mech…” Jazz mumbled, moving to get off of the table. However, he wasn’t able to get up, and Soundwave put pressure on his thighs, effectively keeping him seated.

“Jazz: Stay seated. Soundwave: Will clean up the energon, then we will go to Hook.”

Soundwave moved out of Jazz’s line of sight, picking up the container and disposing of it, then grabbing a towel to soak up the spilt energon. While the bigger mech was moving around the kitchen, Jazz remained seated, rubbing his helm to try to ease the dull ache left over from the static. Tossing the soiled towel into the trash chute, Soundwave turned his attention back to the mech on the table.

“Jazz: Able to walk?”

Jazz nodded, hoping down from the table. Soundwave extended his hand out to the injured mech to help stabilize him, which Jazz gratefully took. Soundwave led the two of them out of the room and into the hallway which was surprisingly sparse.

As they made their way to the medical bay, Jazz took the time to look around the ship that they were on. Unlike Soundwave’s private quarters, the hallway had windows that gave the black and white mech a beautiful view of a nebula they were passing through.

However, the closer the two got to their destination, more and more cybertronians were appearing. Many mechs and femmes were either doing double takes or openly staring at the pair. Jazz was used to the stares but it was obvious the extra attention was unsettling to Soundwave. The cassette player pulled their connected hands closer to himself so Jazz was forced to be basically tucked under the other’s arm. Jazz was now close enough to the other that he was able to pick up on Soundwave’s electromagnetic field. There was the obvious anxiety, but also an underlying feeling of… exhilaration?

Jazz found himself chuckling at the other’s adorable behavior. Even with the visor and facemask in place, Soundwave seemed surprised by the noise. Jazz could feel the larger mech’s optic on him through the red visor, but didn’t say anything. The walk continued up until they reached a wide door that automatically opened as soon as the pair got close enough.

The dreary colors of the Nemesis' medical bay greeted them as soon as they walked into the threshold. An obnoxiously shiny red mech was sharpening his digits into sharp points as he leaned against an empty examination table.

The mech’s black and red optics flickered up, seeing the pair. Immediately, he straightened his posture and placed the file onto the medical stand next to him.

“Another one?” The glossy mech said, “Didn’t we finish examining the last of the stock?”

“Negative.” Soundwave’s monotone voice seemed particularly cold in response. Out of the corner of his optics, Jazz saw Soundwave’s visor burn brighter for a second or two before returning to normal. The other mech’s optics widened in surprise, looking at Jazz quickly, then back to Soundwave.

“Ahhhh, I see how it is… If that's the case, you can call me Knockout. I specialize in cosmetic changes and general repairs, but due to certain circumstances, I’ve been assigned to assist Hook. Allow me go get a private examination room ready for you both, then I’ll inform him that you’re ready.”

The red mech turned on his heel and walked further into the med bay, leaving the pair to wait awkwardly in the middle of the main area.

“‘Stock’? What was he talking about?” Jazz asked as he watched the red race car disappear into a room against the far wall.

Blue shoulders raised a fraction as Soundwave simply said, “Unclaimed property: Examined here.”

Jazz’s blue visor flashed in suspicion, “Examined in the medical bay? Why would-”

“Jazz?!” A gruff voice gasped.

Soundwave’s red visor snapped over to look at the source of the sound and Jazz had to turn and look over his shoulder plate at the red and white ambulance that had just entered the room. Deep cerulean optics stared in shock at the black and white mech, coolant starting to form at the corners.

“Hey now!” Jazz fully turned to the older mech and shot him a charismatic smile, “There’s no need for you to cry on account of little ol’ me.”

Jazz moved to move closer to the red and white mech, but a blue arm shot out and stopped Jazz from walking forwards. The other swiftly tore his gaze off of Jazz and glared at Soundwave as he growled out, “You slag sucker.”

The angry cybertronian tossed the tray he was carrying towards the cassette player. The blue mech pulled Jazz behind him to shield him from the onslaught of medical grade tools as the furious mech stomped his way over to the pair. Soundwave’s visor flashed red and his grip on Jazz became painful. Before the ambulance took another step towards them, he suddenly seized up and stiffly collapsed to the floor.

Jazz stared slack jawed at the mech on the floor. The mech stared up at Soundwave in disdain as his digits twitched in irritation. The door in the far back swished open and the red sports car from before stepped back into the med bay along with a green and purple mech.

Their optics immediately moved to the ambulance on the floor before the new mech clicked his tongue, “Tch. He's acting up again?”

Knockout sighed and crossed his arms, “For an intelligent mech, he sure is taking his time learning his lesson. Hook will stay here and take care of him, while I get you started.”

Soundwave remained silent but stiffly nodded his head. The red sports car motioned for the two of them to follow him as he went back into the hallway that split into the private examination rooms. Soundwave followed the smaller mech without hesitation but Jazz could not take his optics off of the mech twitching on the floor. The ambulance on the floor looked at him as he grit his denta in pain. He opened his mouth to say something to Jazz but his voice box only let out static.

Hook chuckled suddenly, making Jazz’s optics snap to him instantly. Hook’s eyes bore into the fallen mech as he said, “No need to worry about him, he just needs to learn to control his temper better.”

Jazz glared at Hook behind his visor for just a moment before Soundwave said from the doorway, “Jazz: Follow.”

Jazz hesitated before turning and following Soundwave into the hallway, his forearm pulsing in pain from where Soundwave had gripped him. 

The hallway was shallow and only led to six different doors, three on each side. Knockout escorted the pair to the farthest room on the left, the door leading into a spacious private examination room where Knockout waved to Jazz to lay on the ridiculously large examination berth. 

Jazz chuckles nervously under his breath, muttering, “Y’all got a big enough berth in here?”

Knockout gave a soft chuckle back, “Sometimes it's actually too small.”

Jazz hoped up and scoots himself closer to the middle in order to completely lay down. The red sports car pushed an instrument stand closer to the berth before he opened a sterile package of tools.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Knockout says in good humor before lifting Jazz’s medical port on his forearm. The medic efficiently plugged a cable into Jazz before connecting the cable to a computer against the back of the room. Jazz’s vitals immediately began to appear one by one on the monitor, the hum of Jazz’s spark quickly filling the silent room and becoming background noise.

Soundwave quickly took to sitting in the chair in the corner, to remain out of the way before Knockout moved back to Jazz’s side. 

“You might feel a small prick,” Knockout warned with little time before turning the black and white mech’s helm to the side and sliding two small needles into the base of Jazz’s neck.

Jazz didn’t even flinch, a new warning popping up in the corner of his HUD stating that his processor was now being monitored using a medical code.

Finishing tying the cables together, in order to avoid them tangling, Knockout picked up a data pad and leaned up against the berth. “Now when you made the appointment this morning, Soundwave, you gave us a brief run down of the situation. But is there anything else we need to look out for?”

“Jazz: Has no memory of before yesterday.” Soundwave said from the side.

“Oh? Nothing at all? Not even slivers or tidbits?” Knockout cocked an eyebrow before typing a note into the data pad.

“I have memories of sparkling hood, but nothing about the war or about Soundwave. Anytime I try to think about anything in that time period, a thick static covers my processor and it almost makes me crash.” Jazz informed, leaving out any mention of the mysterious mech.

Knockout was standing behind Jazz’s helm so he was unable to see the quick look that the medic sent Soundwave.

“Huh. Well that’s not good at all.” Knockout murmured under his breath. Knockout typed a note into the data pad before placing in on the instrument stand.

“Well, we would like to do a physical examination, to see if we can find the source of the amnesia. Your helm doesn’t have any dents in it, so I would take a guess and say that it might have something to do with your spark.”

An awkward pause fell upon the trio before Jazz sighed. “Okay… But can we do it without an audience?”

Looking at Soundwave subtly through his visor, he noticed that his shoulders were a bit higher than before. Knockout quickly stated, “Of course. Would you like him to wait outside now, or wait until Hook gets to the actual examination of your spark?”

“Now.” Jazz said bluntly.

The blue mech took the hint and nodded, before swiftly standing and moving to leave.

The door gave a soft hiss as it sealed closed, before the red optics looked at the mech on the berth. “Now that we have some privacy, is there anything else we need to know?”

Jazz thought about it for just a moment before sighing, “Nah, mech, were good. It’s bad enough having medics look at your spark, let alone a spark mate you don’t even remember being in the room.”

“Gotcha. Well, I’ll go grab Hook then we’ll start the actual exam.”

Knockout sauntered out of the room leaving Jazz to look around. Visually, there wasn’t much to the private room. Everything in there was a dull, dark gray and Jazz definitely wouldn’t call it homey, the walls bare of anything besides the monitor of the computer. The examination light over Jazz was overbearingly harsh, leaving the white parts of his paint job to glow.

But Jazz didn’t have too long to admire the scenery as Knockout soon returned with the head medic in tow. Hook immediately got to work, picking up the data pad Knockout had used only minutes ago.

“Alright, besides a few bumps and dents here and there, you don’t seem to have any visible external injuries. Any pain or discomfort?” Hook asked, skipping right over any pleasantries.

“My helm hurts whenever I try to remember anything, and my spark chamber has had a dull ache ever since I booted up yesterday.” 

Hook hummed in acknowledgement and silence fell over the trio as Jazz saw Hook move around to the computer in his peripheral, looking at the mech’s charts and vitals before fiercely tapping notes into the data pad.

“Well your processor activity is fine if a bit overheated. What more concerns me is your uneven spark levels. Your rhythm has a dip every other rotation when it should be a consistent level.”

Hook returned to his line of sight before asking, “I would like to see for myself what is causing those imbalances. Would you mind parting your chassis for me?”

Jazz hesitated for a moment before slowly parting his chassis. A pale blue light fills the room as the metal revealed his spark to the two medics. 

Hook stared clinically at the spark, “Now Soundwave has informed me of… you two and you're past. It looks like when the Autobots severed your bond, they must not have have been… delicate with the process.”

Hook slid a mirror detachment out of the light above them so that Jazz could see his own naked spark for himself. The maya blue spark had a dark line horizontally through the middle of it, making it look like it was two separate pieces. Both Jazz and Hook stared at the spark rotate for just a moment before the medic said, “That line appeared when your bond was forcibly ended. Normally, severing bonds by a medical professional, would still scar the spark, but the line would be thinner and lighter. Barely noticeable around the light sparks produce. However, this severing was done hastily and improperly.”

Hook moved the mirror away so that he could speak to Jazz directly, “That severe trauma could be what’s causing your helm pains and lost memories. Without physically going in and performing surgery, it's hard to tell what damage that unexpected severing caused.” 

Jazz frowned slightly, “So what does that mean, doc? Am I gonna die?”

Hook let out one good hearty laugh before saying, “Oh Primus no! The asymmetric rhythm may be a bit uncomfortable, but you'll survive. Reconnecting your bond with Soundwave and connecting your bonds consistently will help level out your spark levels.”

Hook started to disconnect Jazz from the various monitors before helping the black and white mech sit up. “I’m gonna prescribe you some medicated energon that should help clear out your systems and help with your spark ache. You can get them from Soundwave’s dispenser later tonight, but I can only allow fourteen at a time. Drinking an extra cube of coolant will help the overheating in your processor, but probably won't completely get rid of the attacks.”

Jazz rubbed the back of his neck where the needles were sticking out just moments before, “And what about the missing memories? Any idea when I’m gonna get those back?”

Hook looked at Jazz for a moment before seeming to stifle a smile, “Well I can't guarantee that you’re ever going to get all of your memories back, but I wouldn’t push anything. Attempting to push through the attacks will only make the pain worse and may inflict permanent damage. If your memories want to come forward, then they will. Now while I go order that order of medical energon, would you like Knockout here to go ahead and spruce you up? Or would you like to wait until our follow up appointment?”

Jazz looked down at his forearms where various scratches and dents were prominent. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Might as well and do it since we’re here.”

Hook nodded and picked up the data pad once again, “Well I’m going to go repair Soundwaves forearm and I look forward to meeting with you again.”

The green and purple combiner moved out of Knockout’s way and the red mech quickly got to work. Jazz’s scrappy and battered armor soon became smooth as Knockout expertly popped out dents and hand buffed out any imperfections.

“Alright, so now that you're back, we're gonna have to remove that Autobot symbol.”

Jazz looked down at his chassis as Knockout sanded out the red and white symbol. Even though Jazz had no memories when he was undercover, he mourned the loss of the emblem. After the symbol was completely gone, Jazz just felt empty. Almost as if a part of himself has been stripped away.

Knockout quickly mixed up white, black, and blue paints testing them Jazz and adjusting the colors until they matched his original paint job. Quickly repainting the deeper of the scrapes and adding Jazz’s blue stripe down his chassis, Knockout briefly let the new paint dry before adding a stencil in the middle of Jazz’s chassis and spraying the area with a deep purple.

Removing the stencil, the new emblem now labeled Jazz as a proper Decepticon.


End file.
